


She Is But The Wind

by MoonWitch96



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Mysticism, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2019-09-01 22:25:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 10,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonWitch96/pseuds/MoonWitch96
Summary: A recurrence isn't simply a genetic copy. It runs much deeper than that. Or at least it does for Jupiter Jones.





	1. Chapter 1

Jupiter Jones understands she was someone before at a very early age.

It wasn't even remembering exactly- it wasn't that simple for her. If she had remembered she wouldn't be Jupiter, no matter what her mother called her. If she had really remembered, things would have been different. If it had been, life would have made more sense. No. At four, she has… A feeling. Deep in her heart. A certainty that no one would be able to shake of she spoke out loud. She remembers no details, not at first. Just small things.

But it is enough for her to understand.

She remembers being taller. Looking down at people while now all she can do is look _up and up._ It wasn't just height. It wasn't just the understanding she had been _older._ It was bigger than that. It was _authority_ , it had been her place to be taller.

People were _beneath_ her.

And she remembers liking that, how people had scrambled to meet her wants and needs. How she never had to even question that authority. As Jupiter, she _hates_ it. Wants to sob and ache at that feeling of… Being more than someone else. Because being Jupiter was enough for her, more than enough. But it lingers, the truth that Jupiter was not the first person she had been.

She gets moments- scattered and vague- of who she had been.

And she understands that before Jupiter, life had been easier. People she remembers, funny looking and not, had treated her well. Had taken her height and authority with a frightful sort of awe that turns her stomach. At how… Unfeeling she had been towards people who did her every whim and _want_. At how tired she had been of it all, of how disgusted she remembers feeling.

Her family, loud and emotional, does not treat her like that. They have neither the time nor the patience to cater to the whims of a little girl as young as she is… And somehow, she likes it better. She _loves_ it. Likes that she no longer has to look down at people, that she can reach out and grab things as she wants as she needs instead of everyone handing it to her. That people, especially her mother can tell her _no._ She thinks the person she had been before had never had anyone tell her _no._ She likes it. The temperance of it, the limitations of it. She is not tall- she is small and it isn't up to her to make decisions. The independence, the _freedom_ and she likes that she is not looked and looked at for every little thing.

She likes reaching with her own two hands. She likes being told _no._ Understanding the need for _no._

She likes who she was now, not who she had been.


	2. Chapter 2

Jupiter thinks that the best part of being a new person is her mother. Aleska Jones is her hero. Is her rock. She makes the entire fuzziness of being someone new easier. _Better._

Is so _warm._

She remembers the coldness. That is another one of the small things she remembers. The frightful isolation of it. Being higher then everyone meant to be so cold. How touch had not only been few but discouraged. All she feels in those distant memories is cold. Dazzling colors in her eyes, silken feel beneath her hands… But _cold._ Everything is touched by that. A separateness from anyone and anything. Nothing but cold.

Aleska Jones is not a doting mother, does not smother her young daughter with kisses and hugs, does not hold her with suffocating frequency. But… But each touch is firm, so _warm_. Real and something that the person she had been before had never had. She craves it, clings to each touch.

"Oh, Jupiter," Aleska is tired. She is always tired. She works hard, nearly if not every day. They live in a small space of charity and family obligation in their families alcazar- _no it's a house-_ and lived secretly and in near poverty.

But she can always hold her, brings her limbs of thin coltish limbs up and close to her, hanging her on her hip. Jupiter holds on with ease and practice, curling into the woman's neck. Her perfume is only lotion that smells of oats and honey, nearly overpowered by that of the chemicals and cleaning solutions.

"Матушка," she whispers happy and full, her voice is song and giggle.

Aleska drops onto their shared bed, curling her calloused fingertips into Jupiter's wild and tangled hair. Gentle and carefully untangling knots. Jupiter leans into it, humming joyously at the warmth.


	3. Chapter 3

Jupiter draws.

Her hand flew across scraps of paper she finds in the house, relishes it and hides it in a large boot box that her mother no longer owned the boots for. The Crayons are cheap, the pencils more so- Aleska cannot say no to this much, as poor as they are, hoarded up as unwanted people in the only country Jupiter has known in this _life._ She draws scraps of memory, on scraps of paper. The cold places she sees best in her sleep come alive beneath her hands, a distant feeling of this having been something she had done often _before_. She often wonders if this is something she had done _before,_ create...

It's her Aunt Nino that finds them one day. Her voice is loud in her exclamation, her eyes are wide.

"Jupiter, my little Leo, лев," she calls loudly, cooing and repeatedly. She hovers happily over the realistic, creative renditions done by her niece.

They are fantastical and grand. Vivid colors done waxy crayons, in pencils and smudges and carefully made. They are more than beautiful, they are _inspired._

Jupiter frowns when she comes to the basement, lingering on the steps. She had been upstairs, helping set the large table and had almost run when she head her Aunt's insistent calls. She looks at her memory box in her Aunt's hands, frowns deeper at the delight she finds in her slightly aged face. Those were not meant to seen. They were just for her.

"This is beautiful. Wonderful. Such an imagination-"

"They're mine, Nino," she grabs the box, yanking them back. Tears fall, she does not _want_ her family to touch the cold places of before, freeze as she had done in her last life, "Only mine."

Her aunt frowns. She watches her cry, holding the box in furious fear. But understands in that sage if crazy way of her's. Soon it is not scrapped paper. It's not cheap crayons. Its beautiful and soft paper made for it, its paints and pens and everything she could want to make her former world beneath her hands.

She shakes when her Aunt gives them to her, having saved up for _months_ gift her this.

Nino, at her distress of such a gift, only kisses her forehead and gently asks for her to put them around the basement, to pin them up and show them to at least her and her mother. She says no. She cannot let it hurt them. But Nino's eyes are brown and calm, warm and… Hurt. Hurt at Jupiter's refusal to share. But Jupiter does not budge, refusing the gift. It is only later, that she realizes how much her Aunt had wanted to help her express herself, how much she wanted Jupiter to _share_ herself. She might not know that there was someone before Jupiter, but Nino wants Jupiter to share herself...

She also thinks, on paper, the cold places cannot really touch her family.

They are only scraps of _before_.

They are not _now._

Nino is ecstatic when she realizes she has stolen back the gift and placed her first memory on the wall with little thumbtacks. The scene is an ocean, cold and blue, luminous creatures that are delicate and translucent. It is beautiful, one of her more gentle things. Nino beams and praises her, and it is not odd to see any of her relative coming to examine her memories.

Her mother, Aleska, does not comment much on it. Only kisses her hair for each little piece that goes on the walls.


	4. Chapter 4

Jupiter breathes, deeply. The gentle wind caresses her face. It flows through her dark hair causes the thin strands to dance in the breeze, plays across her warm skin in a comforting way. It is not cold. But cool, and her breath comes in harsh breathes of excretion. Her arms tremble from her effort.

Above her, the sky is dark and stars twinkle weakly.

"Jupiter, must you risk your neck!?"

Jupiter sighs, eyes skyward. The sky at night is a thousand stars against the velvet dark. But in the suburbs, those thousand, _millions_ are lost. Only the strongest are bright and visible. She knows in that velvet dark is where she had been _before_ , the distant and nebulous colors and experiences she can't quite remember, the cold. But she is there, on Earth. Warm and _away._

"The sky is full of miracles," she whispers. But it also full of monsters.

She thinks she may have been one of them.

Her mother, climbing to the roof to drag her idiotic child out of danger, nearly falls off herself from that quiet whisper. Aleska manages to steady herself but looks at Maximillion's daughter with blinking eyes that nearly fall to tears.

Jupiter tells herself she is no longer a monster. Swears it to herself.

"Yes," Aleska whispers, reaching for her daughter, bringing her small baby to her lap, "It is full of miracles."


	5. Chapter 5

She laughs into _life_ , green grass and brilliance of the wildflowers, a scatter of color and haphazardous arrangement. Jupiter lies in _life,_ relishes as it perfumes her pure white dress, as it touches her skin. The sun is brilliant and wonderful, full and warm on her.

She enjoys it as the person she was before couldn't.

She feels it on her skin, warm and true. Life and brilliant colors of flowers. She is extra careful not to crush, to not destroy. Only settles herself in it. She simply reveals and soaked it in in reverence and understanding of being precious.


	6. Chapter 6

The cold seeps over her sometimes. The cold of indifference. The cold from being up high and above when she had been someone else. She falls into it, the thought of how simple it would to become what she once was, as faint and far away of what that had been was to her. She sometimes thinks things, almost like a second voice in her head, that tells her how easy it would be for things that get in her way to go _away,_ and she thinks it would be so easy to make them go away. That it could almost be _fun._ It scares her, sometimes, how numb she can feel against the world, how sometimes she looks at people and sees them as not worthy. It makes her sick to her stomach, makes her push down tears and a grit her teeth. Makes her want to scream.

She is usually able to ignore it, that dark and cold part of her that hides somewhere inside her, deep and buried. But it comes out, aspects of who she was _before._

It, she is sure, completely unsettling in a child. She thinks her mother sees it sometimes

Sees that her daughter had been a monster before. And that being a monster was so frightfully easy to become. And that Jupiter could be that again if she just closed her eyes and let it happen.

But Aleska is love and warmth… And she sees only Jupiter, cares only for who she was _now,_ not _before._ When Jupiter feels the cold, Aleska always brings her back. Always centers her and allows that cold to creep back into Jupiter's mind, back into the corner of her soul more closely tied to _before._

Aleska fights the cold, fights _before_ by being a shining guide, a frightfully strong source of comfort and love that she thinks she had lacked _before_.

And Jupiter loves her all the more for it.


	7. Chapter 7

Jupiter Jones eyes are caught by the sparkle of glass in the park on the farmer's market that occurs every Sunday. She had just wandered away from her mother, just for a second looking at the different food with curiosity, when a twinkle had made her turn her head. She saw the peddler's space, lined with necklaces and rings and It is a ring that catches her eye, its setting a marble of beautiful swirling colors, red, yellows, orange, and whites, with a soft rose band.

"Jupiter. The Planet of thousand hurricanes, lasting hundreds of years," says the man, sagely, smiling. He squats on the blanket of his wares, his grin is yellow and gnarled. But before him are delicate wares of spun glass, bracelets and necklaces, shinning in the sunlight like jewels, "You like it?"

Jupiter tries not to flinch at his address, he lifts the ring in calloused hands, working hands that are gnarled with age and dark from the sun. It twinkles in the light, large enough to reflect shadows across the sidewalk that hold its colors. She nods. She is ever wary of strangers, _people always want to hurt you._ But she did not want to make him uneasy, she makes people so uneasy, so easily. She is just too still a child, but she remembers the _before_ in which control had been essential in everyday life. She always fights such urge to be controlled, tries to act _normal,_ but finds it too hard to do so sometimes. It settles around her like a cloak, like _armor. Automatic,_ unintentional.

"A pretty thing for a pretty girl. Why don't you get your mom, kiddo, I bet she would buy it for you. Or your da-"

"Why planets?" she asks.

The man blinks, at her clear speech, at her serious expression, eyes light, one a vivid green and the other a clear brown, staring straight into his own. Her voice is high, bit soft, and her words are not slurred. She has practiced again and again to make her voice perfect and without fault.

"Planets are beautiful."

_Storms, orange and swirling… Red winds and impossibly tall halls of gleaming black halls of glass and jewels…. A factory of death and life?_ Jupiter shakes her head.

"Sometimes they can be terrifying."

"Do you think Jupiter is scary?"

"I think it can be."

_I think I can be. If I really let myself._

"Why?"

"Those hurricanes are so strong that they make the ones on Earth appear like a gentle breeze. They would destroy most crafts in a second. And its so far away from the sun, it would be so cold."

_It was one of the coldest places on this side of the Verse._

The man smiles.

"Ah. A little astronomer, I see. Yes, it's a dangerous place, the planet, but can you deny that it is beautiful? What is wrong with a beautiful, dangerous thing?"

Jupiter does not answer, just frowns as the man grins at her.

"Jupiter! What have I told you about leaving my side-"

Her mother comes, clicking her tongue, sharply. She grips her hand tightly, not hurtful, but firm.

"Jupiter I told you again and again-"

The man blinks.

"Your name is Jupiter?"

She nods. He grins. Wide and yellow.

"Then have it."

Calloused hands close around her small, empty one, placing the jeweled Jupiter ring into her hands. It is warm from the sun, and a lump settles in her throat.

"I-"

"You have that little Jupiter, you have that and remember that things can be beautiful. Not just scary or dangerous. But both."

Aleska gives the man a strained smile, thanks him and drags her away. It doesn't fit- meant for an adult hand- but she wears it on a chain, every day. 


	8. Chapter 8

Jupiter discovers that she can bring life into her grey room that serves as her Alcazar- _home. Alzazars are bigger… Larger. Colder and with so many empty rooms and empty spaces._ Vladdie's science project, growing a bean in cotton balls, wet with water. She watches it wither and die, and feels… Such a sadness. But with that death comes a realization.

Her first step is finding an empty bowl, with a large hairline fracture and one her Cousin Vassily's wife had discarded. She takes it and fills it with dark and rich soil, and takes the leftover beans from Vladdie's projects and wet cotton balls. It takes weeks, but life _sprouts._ Carefully and mindful of the fact that life is a delicate balance, she feeds it, waters it, speaks to it, gives it sunlight. She even gives worms to recycle the nitrogen, smiling as she watches the small creatures wiggle about. The plant is joined by wild things she finds, filling other bowls, discarded metal tins, anything she that Vassily's family can spare and soon the small and tall windowsills are filled with green and splotches of color of wildflowers.

Then the floors are lined with chipped pots, lush seeds gifted to her by a gleeful Vassily, hoping she will supply food for the family.

Jupiter is all too grateful for the chance to _create_ life…

She feels that _before_ when she had been a monster she had been much better suited at taking it away.


	9. Chapter 9

Aleska is tired.

She thinks perhaps she is always some level of tired. She thinks sometimes it is done with the knowledge that all her education, all of her effort in Russia was erased the second she boarded the boat with no one but Nino at her side and Jupiter in her womb. It had been something she knew was going to occur- smuggling herself out of the Soviet Union(former now) with no documents, no standing or hope for anything beyond a clean state- for nothing polluted with the memory of Maximilian. Vassily had given her asylum, a job. A shit job, one that turned her once soft hands to rough, calloused things, that made her always smell of bleach and sharp chemicals. But a job nonetheless, and a small space to live in with Nino and her daughter.

It was the best they could do, and America held _nothing_ of her husband, just as she knew it would.

"Mama?" a soft voice, and there was her precious daughter, a mug of tea in hand. Steaming, held firmly in her hands. She extended it, offering gently.

 _Jupiter was an odd child… She was so quiet_ , thought Aleska as she took the tea. It was warm and honeyed on her tongue, with a hint of lemon. Sweet and sour, just the perfect amount, with a hint of bitterness from the over-brewed tea. Just as Aleska liked it.

"Thank you, Jupiter," she said, softly.

Jupiter smiled. It was subdued, the girl had been dismayed when she had begun to lose her teeth, and refused to bare her teeth at all. _Not until I am perfect again Mama._ She was vain in that respect, careful of her hair, careful of the set of her little shoulders, of the way she moved her small legs. Always wished to wear pretty things, and was fastidious of the state of her clothing. She was so _clean,_ unlike most children. Their Cousin Vassily had made a note of it, _loudly,_ at dinner about how Vladdie, at that age had been a slob and a proper hellion child. Jupiter had only wrinkled her small nose in distaste as she looked at the ten-year-old Vladdie, who at the time had been dripping soup down his shirt.

But there were moments, precious moments when Jupiter… Would let herself go. Seemingly forgetting about appearances at all and would do something childlike; throwing herself into a bed of flowers, climb to the highest point of a tree, climb to their roof to look at the stars, dig her hands into the earth, making careful pots of greenery to dot the basement room they shared, cover herself in paint or chalk for the sake if her fantastical drawings… Just precious moments were Jupiter lost her air of solemnity. Nino said it was a mark of an old soul, lingering knowledge of a past life. Or perhaps a result of the tragedy that befell her father, a lingering sorrow that Nino thought had manifested that horrible night, made permanence in her aura.

Aleska just thought Jupiter was just more aware than most children. Knew their situation better then most should at her young age. And she was smarter. The child of an astrophysicist and a mathematician. She picked up things so quickly...

"You are very welcome," she said primly, accent American and clear.

Aleska feels her lips twitch. She drains the cup quickly, relishing how it warms her.

"You are very kind, my Jupiter," says Aleska as she finishes the tea.

Jupiter frowns.

"Do you really think so?" her voice is small.

Aleska blinks, notes the true distress in her child by the set of her shoulders, how they curve inward. How her lips twitch just so, downwards before they smooth out in a neutral face. Her little girl, never wanting to seem upset. Not to Aleska. Did not want to be a burden. Her serious little one.

"Yes. Do you not always try? To be kind?"

That twitch again.

"Is it enough to try?"

Aleska knows that Jupiter is much smarter than most children.

"No. But it is a sign of a person with a good heart. Do you understand?"

Jupiter's fine dark brows tighten, smash together.

"Yes… I think so. I have a good heart. But sometimes it is not enough to be kind."

_From the mouth of babes._

"Exactly. You must try. With more trying, the more you succeed."

Jupiter nods. And Aleska brings her small child to her chest, setting the empty cup to the side. She curls around her daughter's frame, together they fall into a peaceful sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Jupiter remembers death at the tender age of four and a half. It is her firm first memory of Seraphi Abrasax. More than just feelings and vague scraps, but true and vivid _memory_. She is next to her mother, heading towards a cleaning job, going up the stairs. It is in the middle of climbing these stairs that it flashes in her mind, as her mother, Aleska hums some old Russian lullaby that feels so _achingly_ familiar, if not in sound but in a tender tone. Her hand, small and holding her mother's hand large and callous, slips out of that precious hold and she falls back with a quiet gasp.

_She is humming, gently, as she looks to Earth, beautiful Earth, such a small, glorious planet. She had begun its Seeding long ago and had dismissed it. But now she realizes how… Gorgeous it is. How blue and wonderful its ocean, how vivid and remarkable the turn of evolution had become in such a place. It makes her ache, ache in ways she forgot she could ache. She forgot the beauty, forgotten how… Wonderful it was to relish such a thing. Not glittering clouds of jewels or things so shallow. But this… Life that she has made, with her hands, carefully made and cultivated to her exact specifications. It had been long ago when she had to do such a thing with her Harvesting planets, she had people to do that. And it was not until she had been looking through her holdings had she rediscovered Earth and fallen in love._

_And found something upon its soil so much more precious._

" _Mother?"_

_She turns. Balem is there again, he comes so frequently, as he had never had. Oh, he doted on her,_ _**loved** _ _her as none of her other children did, but he had always been so independent. His frequency is due to worry, no doubt. He has grown ever worried, ever agitated with her these two hundred years past. Shifting uneasily in his twinkling mass of white fabric, beautiful jewels sewn across his lithe body. She wonders why her stomach turns at his youthful face, at the unwrinkled flesh adorned with freckles… He had just Bathed than, in the waters of life, in Nectar without abandon. Recently._

_She blinks, something deep in her throat thick, her eyes feeling suspiciously close to tears. The splice a, lycantant, there on some business or another from the Legion over the increased threats to her life over her recent policies, shifts uneasily at her turn of emotion…_

_Sensitive creature._

" _My son," she says, her voice is hoarse, hoarse with age._

_Balem flinches at the noise, nose wrinkling with disgust before he turns to the splice messenger, and dismissing him with a flick of his long fingers. The splice doesn't move, looking to her. She smiles at the poor thing, walking forward uneasily with arthritic limbs. She does not think her smile gives much comfort- she is all teeth and cold promise._

" _Leave splice," hisses her son, disdain, and anger coloring his fair face._

_Seraphi smiles again. It is not kind. It is sharp. She thinks, in the wake of his concern, that her son has seemed to have forgotten who is_ _**Queen.** _

" _He is at my disposal, Balem. He only leaves at my command. Do you presume to take it?"_

_Her son turns red a harsher, darker, red in rage and what she thinks is shame._

" _Forgive me, my Queen," he says and he bows as he should have when he enters the room. Low and subservient, her perfect prince, "I had forgotten myself."_

_His neck flushes with embarrassment and rage. She relishes, allows herself to savor the control for a full minute before she turns to the uneasy splice._

" _SkyJacker," she says, calmly, ignoring her still bowing son, "Leave my son and I in private, if you please."_

" _Your majesty," he bows, respectfully._

_Seraphi is amused, as he leaves the room, silent, those bronze wings glistening in the pale light. She turns to Balem, and signals with fingers just as dismissive for him to come up from his bow. Balem does so with little grace, her prince's red brows furrowed._

" _What is a Skyjacker doing around you, Mother?" his voice is filled with a slight rage that amuses her._

" _A concern of the Aegis, I am sure over my security. Something about those that call me outrageous or another."_

_Her voice is calm. But her heart is heavy. Her alternatives to Harvest should be enough. Have to be_ _**enough,** _ _but everyone is fighting her, even her own family. The research, though promising, is not allowed to be more than that… Research. Not to mention the alternatives- Balem huffs._

" _They are calling you a radical. If not senile."_

_She purses her lips. She supposes after nearly ninety-one millennium she can own the title._

" _Do you think the same?"_

_Pale hands, delicate and smooth grasp hers. They are a stark contrast to the wrinkle, curved hands she owns._

" _Mother. Surely you can see that you are not well. You haven't Bathed in… In years."_

_The thought of that liquid, beautiful and glowing with life is so tempting. Had been since she had stopped two-hundred years ago. But it makes her shudder in disgust._

" _I am fine. As soon as my research is passed I will use the alternative- Be the first to lead the way, Balem! Make so much-"_

" _You can not stop using the Harvests as they are," says Balem, harshly, those pale hands on her's tightening, almost hurtfully, "Why mess with a perfect system? You will weaken our stance in the market and make us appear_ _ **weak.**_ _You risk your life with such foolishness-"_

_Something snaps. Something breaks in Seraphi in that moment._

" _I HATE MY LIFE!" and her scream is true, so damn true that it breaks something in her further because she is so_ _ **tired.**_

_Everything is hazy after that. Her son reaches out, screaming at her. They struggle, they scream and cry. And they beg. There is so much begging on his part. Then she begs. Because she is… Tired. Nearly ninety-one millennium weigh down on her so much._

_What has allowed her life is_ _**killing** _ _her._

" _JUST KILL ME, JUST KILL ME BALEM!"_

_And he does. Her neck is broken and no RegenX is on hand at her orders within her Alcazar. She thinks Balem might have brought some, but her perfect heir just stares at her in horror as she grasped fruitlessly for breath._

" _Mother? Mother?"_

_Seraphi falls to the dark._

At the bottom of the stairs, her mother crying in horror, Jupiter Jones does as well.


	11. Chapter 11

Jupiter is only four and Aleska Jones, wonders if perhaps she will die like her Maximilian did, much too soon and before she could truly understand her.

She has no choice, not a one, but to follow little Jupiter to the hospital, hands wringing. She had sent Nino away, practically thrown her older sister down the stairs herself to make her escape as the authorities had arrived. The police, oh _the hated_ police, stand over her, lips pursed as she trembles in the seat below them a cup of stale hospital coffee in hand. She does not bother to hide tears or her defeated expression. She has no excuse, no reason. Jupiter had only slipped out of her hands, her tiny foot falling back before she had fallen down four flights of stairs. She has a head trauma, broken bones, and punctured lungs, and she has no documentation. Aleska has, but outdated documents of the former Soviet Union and near nothing to explain her presence in the country. She had only been able to tell Nino to warn Vassily and to cover anyone else without documentation in his employee, and hope for the best.

Aleska understands at that moment that she is failed, that her hope, her dream of escaping Russia and the memory of Maximilian and giving the babe inside her a better life is next to none. What can she say, what can she do? She is doomed. Her baby and she would be thrown out of the country, back to her father with his disapproval, she would be forced to marry again, possibly give Jupiter to some family that wished for a child. She would lose her little Jupiter…

She steals her heart and her pride.

"I wish to make a call to the United Nations to Sir Sergi Jones, ambassador of the United Kingdom," her voice does not tremble.

But Aleska does.


	12. Chapter 12

Ser Sergi Jones is just as Aleska remembers him.

Tall, with the two different colored eyes, same as her dead husband, same as her young Jupiter, but much colder. He looks at her, heavier, more beaten down from her days as a college professor, this washerwoman that she has become, the widow of his son, and she thinks she can find hate in his cold eyes. He is in a suit, this former ambassador to the Soviet Union, dressed in designer clothing and disdain of her. He had wanted so much more, for Maximilian then an upstart intelligent, _Jewish_ girl of Russia. But they had been in love and uncaring of the consequences, of such things as inheritance and the dreaded ', disowning' they had made due, together on their salaries. They had made love in ignorance and in their poor apartment and been so _ridiculously happy._ If but for a telescope and the stubbornness of her husband.

But she supposes that in the end, it had not mattered in the least. Maximilian was dead and his daughter was nearly so.

"Max? Where is my boy?" his voice, crisp, posh is sharp, and he looks haggard and narrowed eyes.

Aleska lips are dry and bleeding. She licks at them, savoring the pain and the hurt she causes.

"Dead. Years ago. Murdered during a robbery."

Cold eyes close. An echo of her pain.

"Then why call me now?"

She wishes she be cold. She wishes she could freeze up from the inside out, in regards to her  
Возлюбленная. That she could live without this hurt.

"Our babe. Our Jupiter. She fell down, several flights of stairs. I will be deported, and I have little money. I know not anyone else in this country," she lies, she will not drag her poor sister Nino, or her cousin with her, "Please, please help her. She is your blood."

Sergi pauses, blinks, rapidly.

She gestures helplessly to the room she had been standing outside. He had, on some miracle, been in America for business, if in New York, close enough that a flight was enough to bring him here at her call to the UN. He follows her inside, hands curling into fists at the sight of her little Jupiter, surrounded by machines so small on the adult bed. She wishes to collapse. To fall and cry and scream and curse the world for taking her  
Возлюбленная and now her дочь.

"Jupiter? Max always wanted to call a child that… It was his favorite planet," Sergi's voice is hoarse, "Look at her, she has my nose."

And Aleska dares allow herself to hope.


	13. Chapter 13

Aleska was sitting next to her daughter when Sergi came back a few days after seeing his granddaughter for the first time.

She started to stand on his entrance to the room but stopped when she realized the older man had flowers- a lovely bouquet of yellow and peach roses- more than half a dozen. Aleska frowned.

"Jupiter will be sad to see such a thing," she blurts, as he places the vase on a little table.

Sergi looks at her, furrowing his brow.

"Pardon?"

Aleska fought the urge to fidget before she squared her shoulders. She was not a timid woman. But something about Maxamillion's father always left her feeling small. Perhaps it had been the crushing disappointment in the man's face when Maxamillion had gleefully announce their intent to marry, or the way one who looked like her love could be so cold. Aleska didn't know- and she did not care to examine her feelings too closely. It was not in her nature to be cowed, so all she could do was push them down and move forward.

"The roses. They're lovely. But she is a bit of a nature lover… To see them cut will upset her. She will cry."

Sergi blinked, rapidly.

"Cut flowers upset her?"

She smiles, faintly, reminded of a time where a little boy had presented her fair little Jupiter with some weed flower. The girl had cried in horror at the death of the useless plant.

"She is such a gentle thing," she mused, carefully. Her hands settled over the cast of her small foot, and Aleska tried not to let the sudden tears in her eyes fall, "She would be sad at the plant's death. She has… What is the saying? A green hand. Our small… Home is filled to the brim with her efforts."

Something in Sergi's eyes softens, he takes a seat, sitting down.

"So, I assume she will want to be somewhere out in the country," he mused, his accent precise and crisp, "When all this is settled if she has… A green hand."

For the first time since she met him, Sergi had something of an amused smile on his lips, small, barely a twist of his lips, but there nonetheless. Aleska bites her lip.

"You are making plans?" she asked, wary.

Sergi lost his smile. He looks at her, those mismatched eyes that her granddaughter and her late husband had shared.

"Yes. It will take some wiggling, but the fact of the matter when you married Max I made sure my diplomatic immunity was extended to you as you were my son's wife. While the actions that lead you to the United States will have to be explained, in a legal sense, neither you nor Jupiter will be held accountable. I will, of course, pay for my granddaughter's recovery. "

Something in Aleska wanted to weep at the confession.

"You did not want me in your family," she accused, "You cut your son off. Said disinheritance. We were attacked without you the wiser-"

"I wanted to teach Max a lesson. He was young. Impulsive and fanciful. Spoiled in no small part by his privilege and his upbringing. He married you only after a few months of knowing you. I wanted my son to _grow up,_ not be murdered by having him make his own way," said the man, his voice rising, "You were one of the first girls to look his way, to find his flim-flam nature charming. How true was love suppose to be for a man of twenty-something years to a woman of the same age? All I knew five years ago was that you disappeared from the country, and no one knew what happened to Max. How was I suppose to know anything?"

Cool eyes glared. Aleska lifted her chin.

"We did love each other. So much. It was only a year of marriage but it was a lifetime for me…"

Jupiter twitched beneath her hand and Aleska started, looking in panic at the unconscious face of her daughter. Sergi fell silent for a beat as well, before he sighed.

"This is not about past hurts, Aleska," he said softly, and part of Aleska was somewhat stunned to see he knew her name.

"No. This is about Jupiter. And what is best for her in this state-"

"I will care for my granddaughter. I will make sure she grows up with what Max would have been able to give her had we made amends."

Aleska was no fool.

"You will take her. From me. You will take the last I have of Maxamillion."

Cool eyes look at her.

"Yes, look what has happened to her in your care, Aleska. You are young, you may make your life again here in the United States. But as for Jupiter- She will leave with me once she is recovered enough. She is just a young age that she will adjust quickly."

Aleska wanted to scream, wanted to rave- But she had also known this to be a very true possibility for Jupiter once she had called for Sergi. She also knew in a legal sense, she would very much loose to Sergi. However-

"You will be surprised. Jupiter is much more intelligent then you can know. She will hate you."

Sergi blinked but said not another word.


	14. Chapter 14

_Jupiter floated._

_In a place in-between. It was strange to describe- It was not space, or a place exactly. Not form or matter. Just... Somewhere in-between._

_Across her was herself._

_Partly at least._

_She was taller, thought vexingly not by much. Her hair was dark and just as black, but so long and nearly to her feet. It looked so incredibly lush, soft to the touch. Her skin was pale but touched with a hint of olive, flawless and smooth. Her eyes, two different orbs of a pale green and pale brown, sparkled at her, framed by heavy lashes. Her lips, blush and plump were set in a distinct and neutral expression._

" _I did not think to be reborn would be so confusing," mused the who she thinks was who she was_ _ **before**_ _._

" _Did you expect it all?" she asks._

_The_ _**before-** _ _Seraphi smiles. It is not a nice smile. It is perfect, cool beauty on an ageless face, but there is not any life to it. The only thing she could understand from the woman was the distinct impression of cold and exhaustion. And that is not through her smile, but rather from her very being. Jupiter notes, absently and with pleasure and no small amount of vanity, that she will be beautiful. It is a matter-of-fact observation. And the one who she was **before** is what she will be when she is older a curious thing that she had not thought possible._

" _No. No, I did not. Not like this at least. Perhaps a genetic copy of myself in the cosmos, but not like this," her voice is tired, almost dull. But lovely to listen to. There is grace and beauty to everything Seraphi does._

_Jupiter frowns._

" _I don't want to be you."_

_Seraphi blinks._

" _I do not think that is the purpose of your existence Jupiter. To be me is not what you are."_

" _I am. But not. You are_ _ **before.**_ _I am_ _ **now.**_ _"_

_Seraphi nods, a small but firm dip of her head._

" _You are. But not. I am dead, Jupiter. But you are not. You are new, I am old and gone. We are not the same person, but rather the same soul and that is a distinction that you seem to understand."_

" _I will be better then what I was. What you are."_

_Seraphi sighs._

" _I suppose that is your purpose- To be better. "_

" _Is that why I remember what it was like to be you? And how you ended?"_

_Seraphi gives a strangely crooked grin. It is the only expression that she has given that looks unpracticed and strangely_ _**alive** _ _because of it._

" _Who knows? We could just be crazy for all we know."_

_Jupiter cannot help but giggle at her wry tone. She returns the smile, a mirror in her childlike face._

" _I don't think we are."_

" _Neither do I."_

_Silence falls between them. Seraphi hums, gently, a tone that feels so familiar to Jupiter._

" _The Verse is a dangerous place," Seraphi says, simply, "You must correct my sins, Jupiter, to be better."_

" _They are stains on my soul," Jupiter whispers. It is a fact, "You put them there. But only I can wash them away."_

_Seraphi nods again._

" _Yes. I am so sorry that you must make up for what I have done. It is not fair for my Recurrence to fix a system well into place before my own birth and because I was too much of a coward to do it as_ _ **me.**_ _But what is done is done. I am_ _ **before.**_ _You are the_ _ **now.**_ _"_

_Jupiter nods, slowly. Seraphi sighs again, expression fierce and urgent._

" _Be gentle as I could not, be wise as I was not, but be as fierce. I had a saying, a mantra that I wished to follow but never seem to be able._ _ **I am but the wind.**_ _It means to be invisible but present, to be gentle or destructive. To pass like a whisper or a roar."_

" _I am but the wind," said Jupiter. She nods again, carefully._

_The words seem to vibrate within her, strong but gentle._ _**A truth.** _

_Seraphi gave that crooked smile._

" _Yes. Be but the wind. But for the sake of us Jupiter, also remember to have_ _ **fun**_ _."_

_Jupiter laughs, and Seraphi is a deeper and fuller echo._


	15. Chapter 15

Jupiter wakes to pain.

It is all over her, vivid and unlike anything she has ever felt. The worst thing she had ever experienced is a scraped knee in this life- and she still doesn't remember true memories of her time as Seraphi to know whether or not she had suffered like this before. All that escapes her is a low moan as her eyes flutter open. A moan muffled and strangled out of her small throat. She registers, with faint panic, the fact that something is down her throat, some sort of tube. She is stuck in the arm with a thick needle, and over her face is something that covers her from chin to well over her the bridge of her nose. All she can smell is plastic and the faint note of something foul and possibly rotten. She whimpers, while another part of her is stunned by how _primitive_ everything is that is stuck in her, that this pain is something she has to endure for so long. She pushes that thought down viciously, ignoring the rapid sound of squealing machines and the panicked gallop of her heart.

_An Abrasaxs never panics. Or if they do, they do not show it._

The voice is pure Seraphi in her mind. A cool echo of her past self.

That calms Jupiter completely. The knowledge of experiences so vast and within her soul. Some part of her settles eases beyond the panic and horror of her physical state… At peace with the understanding of what her… Talk with her past self had brought. _Or was it just connecting with my past self within my own soul?_ She had not realized the struggle she had been under with the understanding of being Seraphi in the back of her mind. How much she had pushed against it in denial and dislike. She is only four-years-old, but the conflict of then versus the present, the fear of it, was gone.

_I am now. She was the then. Seraphi Abrasax is dead. But Jupiter Jones isn't. I am new. I was her, but… I'm not anymore. Her life, all of it, is not mine. I can never be Seraphi, not really. I may remember her, feel her hurts, but they will never be mine. We share a soul. Sins even. But my experience will never be her's. The course of my life is mine to make._

She didn't even remember her previous self, or her life, not really. Only the last few moments of it. _Oh by the Verse the_ _ **pain**_ _of a broken neck._ It didn't compare to the pain she was in now- Jupiter had no frame of reference to such pain. The memory of her broken neck was foreign and slightly removed- _same soul, different body._ But it was a pain she remembered nonetheless.

"Jupiter?" a voice, soft, accented and clumsily pronunciation and all made something seize up in Jupiter.

"Mama," her voice is garbled, hindered by the _Verse damned_ tube down her throat, but the small whimper of sound was enough for Aleska, for her mother to come to her.

Calloused hands, smoothing her hair back, a warm, thick voice whispering pleas of love and faint prayers to God for protecting her.

 _Seraphi never had someone like my mother._ The thought is sudden, but she knows it is true. From the interaction that she had seen of Seraphi's own son, Balem with her, Seraphi's world of… _Entitles_ was cold and removed and so _lonely_ that she could not think that Seraphi had had a family before she had had her son… _Eldest? She remembered him being the eldest. Cold and molded upon Seraphi's lap, convening, temperamental and clinging, always striving to please her,_ _ **Balem.**_ Sparks of memories. Flashes across her eyes as her mother calls for a nurse. _A woman, painted beautifully and full, smiling serenely and ignoring pleas, looking away, always looking away if something was too ugly to suit her, manipulative, the heart of an artist,_ _ **Kalique**_ _._ _A young boy dressed in an elaborate suit, screaming at the top of his lungs for the color did not suit him,_ _willful and sly and frighteningly ill-thinking,_ _ **Titus**_ _._

"It will be okay, darling, Mama will make everything better," whispers her mother, carefully, pressing a delicate kiss on her hairline, so soft it was barely felt as if she was afraid to hurt her.

Jupiter feels tears in her eyes come before she can even register that the new pain in her chest is not from her apparent injuries. _And she is the reason why Seraphi's memories, however more will come to me again, will not overcome me… Because I will overcome_ _ **them**_ _._

_I am but the_ _**wind** _ _._


	16. Chapter 16

Jupiter hears the healers- no the _nurses_ , speaking, quietly, as they check on her, to each other, in the dead of night.

She has trouble sleeping, most nights, because the despite the primitive medicine so popular here on Earth, the dreams of her past life are more vivid, more and more then the faint glimpse she had seen before of the Verse. She sees snapshots of Seraphi's life, and sometimes its the richness of those memories that startle her awake. She tastes strange things on her tongue, vivid and stark, sweetness, bitterness and something hot and stirring that she feels she does not properly understand it. She feels something smooth, against her skin, textures of woven things so delicate they feel as if they are air, and she sees people and places, beautifully adorned. Beautifully arranged with jewels and silks and lovely things she cannot remember the name for. And sometimes she sees them, the three lives Seraphi had bore, and loved as much as she was able, and knows it had not been enough for either parent nor child.

"The Ambassador is pulling so many strings," mummers one nurse, voice soft and solemn, and her attention is captured, "To insist on having two nurses check on her."

She had long been pretending to sleep, because not sleeping makes the nurse's up the doses of the medicines, and she barely flinches as someone touches her IV, checking carefully that the needle has not shifted in her arm.

"I heard a rumor that this kid is his," said the second nurse, slightly louder, less considerate of her patient.

_Maxamillion is dead._

"Oh no, the Ambassador is actually her grandad. He just found out, apparently."

"Really? That explains why he's paying for everything. And also why he hasn't visited her since she woke up, only sent potted plants."

"I heard a from Gina it was because the girl started to cry when she saw the cut flowers."

"Speaking of crying, the mom seemed to upset the other day, just before the kid woke up."

"I was working day shift that day. I overheard what they were talking about," said the first nurse, voice soft.

"Well?" asked the second nurse, impatient and eager.

"The Ambassador wants to retire and take the girl to England… Without her mom."

Something, something dark and so cold overcomes Jupiter at that moment.

"Well, fuck. Poor kid."

"Don't swear, Jodi, she may be asleep, but you have to practice good habits."

"Yeah, yeah."

They leave.

But Jupiter's mind whirls, as she opens her eyes.

_How dare he. How dare he take what I need from me. How_ _**dare he.** _


	17. Chapter 17

"You're a bad man," she says it, sharp. It is an odd thing to hear from a child, sharpness, command as it were.

The man, Sergi Jones, her grandfather, blinks. Just a little, enough for Jupiter to understand that he is startled by her tone. She thinks if Aleska was in the room, she would be surprised as well. It is not a tone she relishes to use, for it is _authority and cold,_ an echo of what Seraphi would have used in her everyday speech. Jupiter uses that as a tool, as a way to make the people who would control her life as they saw fit. _An Abrasax never acts in anger, only demands as due._ It was something she thinks, Seraphi had tried her damnedest to instill in her children, but had never quite succeeded. Seraphi had never been one to lose her temper. She was cold to the extreme, had been arctic steady and dripped herself in the beauty of an even temperament, born out of calculation. Seraphi had never acted in anger. She had only ever acted in revenge, cold and orchestrated to perfection.

Jupiter, herself, is too true to the people who birthed her in this life. Her anger burns vivid and potent, and she already knows she will not fall down the path that her predecessor had walked.

She was better than that.

"Jupiter-"

"You want to take me away from Mama. Mama loves me."

Few things had loved Seraphi. _Truly loved her._ Aleska loves Jupiter. Loves her enough to give her up if it meant saving her. She knows not if Sergi Jones loves her enough to wish to protect her from all harm, or if she is an object of revenge to the poor girl that had stolen his son away.

"Jupiter. You have to understand. I only want what's best for you-"

"Mama came to America to make a better life for me… To escape the death of your son. Her husband."

He flinches.

"You cannot stay here. I will raise you right."

She is reminded, briefly, a splash of memory of Seraphi, that she had such a person, some business partner or another, who had said the same words, taken little Seraphi from… Jupiter cannot quite remember. It's too far away. Too distant in her memories. But perhaps it had been a little spark of warmth that Seraphi had never regained.

"I… I can't be without her. Please. Grandfather," she almost bows in supplication, but Seraphi had never bowed… And Jupiter did not want to either.

Hands warm and old, but so incredibly young rest on her injured leg.

"I promise I will not take your mother from you, Jupiter."

Jupiter blinks, eyes watering. If she had truly been Seraphi, she would have never let them fall. She would have relished victory and been pleased with the fact that such a man was able to bend to her will by a few choice words. But she isn't, not anymore. She is new. She is better. So they fall like stars, blazing down the arc of her skin, her tears and she feels hope lift her young heart of perhaps one more person loving her.


	18. Chapter 18

She understood so much.

Well, Jupiter was honest enough to herself in fact that she did not know a few important things. She did not know how long it had been since her first life- It could be a mere four years since her birth at the lowest estimation. That, was, of course, if the moment her brain ceased to function, whatever energy that consisted of her consciousness, her soul as the people of this planet put it, her soul was tossed into her mother's womb immediately afterward. At the very largest estimation, tens of thousands of years could have come and gone since she had stopped being Seraphi.

But Jupiter understood the fact that she was reincarnation and with it came consequences of acting very different than most four-year-olds. And it was an unsettling thing to see in a child.

"Jupiter," called her mother and her voice was relieved and soft and warm, "Good morning."

"Good Morning, Mama."

Next to her is the man that had threatened Jupiter's happiness and her key to her sense of self, Sergi Jones. She understands that he is attempting to make amends. That he is simply trying to do what is best for her. She knows this. But she cannot help but feel uneasy with him. He had almost taken her Mother from her. And from his hesitant expression, she knows he can detect that unease.

In her primitive hospital bed, she feels less than presentable. Her hair is a wild tangle and the nurse had yet to come in help her brush her teeth. Never mind the various bulky casts and the paper-thin hospital gown allotted to her. Her grandfather, Sergi Jones, is dressed very well according to Earth fashion, pressed suit and neat hair, and it makes Jupiter feel even more like a little urchin. She frowns, lips pressed tightly as he follows behind her mother.

"Good morning, Jupiter," says Sergi Jones, his accent is prim, British and it contrasts against her mother's harsher Russian accent.

"Good morning, Mister Ambassador," she replies formal and distant. Her American accent makes her another contrast and it pleases her.

His expression tightens, disappointment as she had not called him grandfather since she had begged to stay with her mother. But Jupiter needs the distance, cannot associate this man quite yet with being family, as much as she thinks her Aunt and Uncle and cousins.

"How do you fair?" he asks, dismissing her distance.

"I feel okay. A little tired, but not anything major… I can walk to the bathroom as long as a nurse is present."

"This is good, Jupiter. You are getting better quickly, yes?"

She gives her mother a close-lipped smile because her teeth have yet to grow in completely.

"I believe so..."

"Jupiter, your hair- Let me brush it. I know how you must hate it. And have you yet to brush your teeth little one?"

She beams at her mother. To the side, Sergi Jones, silent and watching sees what he would have torn apart.

The part of Jupiter, the one that is the closest to her last life, enjoys the way that it upsets him. That part of her is whispering, _"Know what you would have_ _ **ruined**_ _, and know I would have never forgiven you for it."_ But mostly Jupiter sees the longing in his expression, sees the real affection in his pale green and brown eyes. Eyes they shared.

"Mister Ambassador. I never did properly thank you for the potted roses. They are beautiful."

Sergi Jones gives her a smile, strangely timid for a man of his stature.

"I'm glad you liked them, poppet."


	19. Chapter 19

"Somewhere in the country?" Pale eyes, so much like his son, one green one brown, stare at him. Sergi Jones swallows thickly, but he gives his granddaughter, _granddaughter,_ a smile.

He hopes it is seen sincerely. Jupiter Jones is a suspicious child and though he could not change the first impression he has given her, he is trying his damndest to improve her opinion of it. There is something… In her eyes. Something in the way she holds her head that is strangely captivating. He knows not if it's the bias of understanding his son had not left this earth without a legacy, or it's just something innate in his granddaughter.

"Yes," he tells her, enthusiastically, "A small lot of land near Chicago, with enough room for a good-sized garden, or a greenhouse if you prefer it. I think it will do us good to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city for all of us. I know… I know you do not desire to come to England. I thought this a wonderful compromise, space for all of us to know each other properly."

Jupiter frowns slightly before she looks to her mother. Aleska, beautiful as she had been five years ago despite the years of hardship, gives her daughter an encouraging nod. She even smiles, and Sergi sees what had enchanted his son, and feels a little better for it. It is difficult, to say the least, not to blame Aleska for the senseless death of his son... But she had lost her husband, just as he had lost a son. Mistakes had been made on all sides, and while he cannot help the past, he can try his best for the future that is to come. Especially for the small, serious child, Aleska had risked everything for. That Sergi was giving up everything for.

_No more duty before my family. I lost my son, I will not lose my granddaughter for the same folly._

"... A garden?" her voice is soft, a gentle thing.

"Yes, poppet. A lovely garden for you to grow, all on your own. As soon as you have recovered enough, we will, of course, have a physical therapist for your recovery come by to our home… Your mother and I have discussed it, now it's for you to decide if-"

"It sounds wonderful."


	20. Chapter 20

Aleska watched as Jupiter made a careful step.

The bright yellow of her socks made a contrast to the white tile floor, and her little arms trembled with effort as she held herself up alongside the banister of the physical therapy room. Jupiter's slightly olive-toned skin, having grown paler in the lack of sun from her stint in the hospital room, glistened with sweat. Her small lips were pressed into a straight line, firm and her unyielding her eyes were narrowed. It was the look of focus that struck Aleska the most. She always knew her child was a serious thing, such an intelligent child. But she had never seen such focus on her face. Jupiter had taken to physical therapy with a steadiness that had surprised Sergi, having expected the four-year-old to be resistant to work, to something so physically straining.

But as she had done for most of her young life, Jupiter had defied expectations. She had taken one look at the prescribed regime to heal her body to functional again after so much physical harm and asked with the calmness that the nurse claimed she never saw in her adult patients:

" _Is this the most I can do? Or is this just the least strenuous way for me to recover the use of my limbs?"_

Of course, after some review, the regime had indeed been increased, and Jupiter had followed instructions without fail, without complaint. Her arm casts had been removed yesterday, and ribs had recovered two weeks before that. She had recovered most of her motor functions in her hands and would require minimum therapy on that front. Thankfully she had received no nerve damage due to her head injury. A miracle, her Doctors had said. Jupiter had simply ignored the raving, and kept at her physical therapy, determined: " _To be perfect by my next birthday._ " The solemn declaration had been met with humored glances, but Jupiter had been adamant of never missing her therapy sessions. She was well on her way to fulfilling her promise.

_You could rule the world if you set your mind to it, wouldn't you little one?_

The thought was off-handed, but as Jupiter made her way, steadily, her physical therapist hovering behind her, hovering behind her, ready to catch her at the last minute, Aleska thought that it was completely possible for her daughter to achieve such a thing. Jupiter seemed not to notice or paid the man little attention, at least until she reached the end of the bar, allowed him to ease her to sit on the ground. She turned to him and gave him a faint, closed-lipped smile that was soft and true.

"Thank Mister Scott," she said warmly, chest heaving slightly.

"You did great, Jupes," said the large man, grinning at her.

Like most people, her physical therapist had come to appreciate her child, warmed by her careful consideration of the people. Jupiter was so devastatingly kind, despite her odd seriousness, and ever since her accident, her kindness had only increased. There was a lightness in her eyes, ease from the pain that Aleska had never noticed her daughter had held within her. Aleska suspects it's from their old status as illegal immigrants, and the danger that Aleska had placed on both their heads in fleeing to America. Or perhaps the burden of poverty that had been over their heads. Either way, something was no longer in the depths of her eyes… Something dark and uneasy had been removed.

And Aleska was _so_ glad.


End file.
